


cherryblue boy

by johnnyfucksup



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Kind of making out?, Kissing, M/M, love me some angsty make out session, ram is confused, there are feelings happening, while crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnyfucksup/pseuds/johnnyfucksup
Summary: There were some confusing feelings happening, and Ram couldn’t do anything about it.(Maybe Ram didn’t want to do anything against it.)
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 197





	cherryblue boy

**Author's Note:**

> i promised some more, take it!  
> (i actually can't write dialogues, so introspections on some feelings it is.)  
> it can be kind of read as ram's side of dreamcatcher boy? but not necessarily

The very first time Ram had seen the boy in the dark blue engineering vest and the slightly too long hair which fell in his face and the impossible dark and deep eyes had been in the library. 

Ram had been standing there, leaning against a pile between the bookshelves, minding his own damn business when he had felt the uncomfortable sensation of eyes on his face. And when he had turned his head, sure enough, someone had averted his gaze quickly, spinning around, facing now the opposite direction. 

Ram had felt the burning sensation somewhere between his shoulders and his neck, a sure sign that someone was watching him while he just wanted to read. So, in his usual manner, he had walked away. (The urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of the curious eyes had been strong, but he had resisted. Barely.)

That was the first time Ram had seen King. 

(He hadn’t know that he was called King, of course, but a mere weeks down the road, Ram would laugh at how accurate that name was for the boy.)

xx.

But the first time Ram had _really_ seen King was the first time King had casually planted his ass down at the table full of struggling juniors – including Ram himself – and had sacrificed his evening helping them out, explaining formulas, spoiling some of the probable exam questions. 

Ram hadn’t really tried to hide his momentary amazement while staring at the side of King’s face, an almost-there-but-not-quite smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

(King had also given Ram notes, handwritten and highlighted, _for cool boy_ at the top and _from p’king_ at the bottom, with a nonchalance as if it hadn’t been the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Ram. Without expecting anything in return.)

(Ram would find out, later on, that King would do many nice things for him.)

xx.

But the first time Ram had really _seen_ King had been in midst of his plants, greeting almost every single one of them lovingly, caressing some on his way into the apartment.

Ram hadn’t really known if he had to be worried or amused. (King had asked his _plant babies_ , that was honestly what he called them, which was worrying enough, if they had gotten into a fight when he had been out.)

That had also been the day Ram discovered that King had a sister – a slightly terrifying sister with some weird habits –, and Ram had felt something steer in him, something alike fondness, as he had been observing their interaction, reminding him so much of himself and Ruj. 

In retrospect, he also learned something that day. That King was really fucking observant, even if he wasn’t even in the same room. Ram had been given evidence of that some days later, when King had gifted him a venus flytrap, just because he had seen Ram’s interest in the pictures in his room. 

It had been the second time King had given him something, just because. (Ram tried not to read anything into it.)

xx.

After those first few times really seeing King, in different situations and environments and settings and with different people, Ram seemed to see him everywhere – at their usual table with his group of friends, tutoring first year students – sometimes from other faculties – until the late evening, even in a sea of blue shirts, Ram could make out King’s face. Of course he could. Everyone could – King wasn’t exactly average looking. 

Sometimes, Ram caught himself actively searching for his senior in a crowd, in the hallways (or anytime he saw a familiar shade of blue, really). 

xx.

Ram had been annoyed at first (he was always annoyed at first). 

There was not only their senior Bohn who was pestering Duen, now Ram himself had a guy in a blue engineering shirt bothering him. 

(Not that Ram still felt bothered by King’s presence. Inconvenienced, maybe. Simply because Ram would drop anything at the sight of King and completely forget what he was actually supposed to do. Also, at the mere mention of King’s name, Ram unexplainably failed at concentrating on anything else. So, yes, inconvenienced but not bothered.)

(Sometimes Ram asked himself if he ever felt bothered at all.)

(He couldn’t really remember.)

The reason Ram had been annoyed at first hadn’t even been King himself. Ram was annoyed in general (if that wasn’t the story of his life), by all those people who took a short-lived interest in him, trying to get closer, trying to get him to talk. But all those people would leave, some sooner, some later, Ram only had to wait it out.

King didn’t leave. King didn’t even show the slightest indication that he would leave anytime soon. 

King actually seemed to walk right through those metaphorical walls Ram had built around himself (mostly through not talking, the absence of any facial expression and social capability), and made himself right at home. And Ram wasn’t even bothered by it. 

(Ram always felt bothered by everyone – except King apparently.)

Normally, Ram would’ve punched anyone in the face who would come too close, right in the face, and that was that, end of story. But then again, anyone else would’ve usually left ages ago. 

King didn’t leave. 

And Ram didn’t want him to.

xx.

The third time King gave him something, just like that, was a pencil, on which he had written his name – well, _cool boy_ , not really his name, but the only name he seemed to hear these days –, putting on the most ridiculously serious face while casting a spell on it.

(After being told that he should just keep the pencil that evening, Ram had set it up on his desk, never once using it, only staring and _wondering_.)

xx.

There were some confusing feelings happening, and Ram couldn’t do anything about it. 

Hell, he couldn’t even name them, let alone make sense of them. Because they didn’t, they absolutely didn’t make any sense – Duen would probably roll his eyes in a dramatic matter and tell him that feelings didn’t need to make sense, as they would be felt anyway – but they didn’t even fit together, and they didn’t fit into Ram’s grand scheme of the world.

Ram didn’t even know that he could feel so many things at the same time. He would usually experience any form of emotion separately, kind of like a chain of emotions. That wasn’t confusing at all, as it gave him enough time to feel everything on its own, to process them properly, to catalogue them. 

But with King? Ram was confused as hell. (Ironically, confusion wasn’t one of the feelings that were happening.)

Somewhere along the way, the annoyance shifted into indifference and then indifference… see, that’s where it got confusing. Ram couldn’t even name what came after indifference, because at that point, it seemed like waves of feelings were collapsing over him without mercy.

It didn’t happen slowly, gradually, either. One day, when they were sitting at King’s table in King’s condo, eating breakfast together, while King couldn’t take his eyes off of the three dogs in the living room, fidgeting with his knees in front of his chest, after Ram had cried into King’s shirt like a toddler the night before – there was a small stain –, it just hit Ram. 

Just like that. 

Wave after wave after wave. Not even slowing down after Ram averted his gaze down to his food, trying hard not to look at King in his oversized shirt with his knees at his chest.

Ram’s heart started beating hard, and fast, and _loud_ , because that was a thing now, apparently. It didn’t really stop throughout the day, either. Neither anytime after that day. 

There was so much happening, overwhelming and confusing and bothering, and Ram couldn’t do anything against it. 

(Maybe Ram didn’t want to do anything against it.)

xx. 

The thing with those kinds of feelings was that how often you may or may not experience them, it never really got easier. Because you can’t get used to these feelings. You also cannot learn how to get used to them, or how to handle them. They were just there, without any kind of instruction, intruding one’s head and heart and soul, and it drove Ram crazy.

Ram had never been one of big words – or any words, for that matter –, always more articulate with actions than actual words. 

Unfortunately, in this particular situation with these particular feelings for this particular person, he couldn’t just act on whatever he couldn’t put into words. It would scare King away. It would scare anyone away. 

Especially, when those actions would include running his hands through King’s hair, just to see if they were as silky as they looked, or grabbing King’s hand instead of his wrist, or pulling King close by his waist, close, _just closer_ , and –

Ram couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even think about how King would react without his throat closing up. 

So, Ram wouldn’t do anything. 

A very short-lived resolution, as it would turn out. 

xx. 

Ram decided to pour every feeling, every thought, every desire – he hated that word, it didn’t even come close to what he was feeling – into caring for King, looking after him, making sure he would be safe and sound, while also holding back, pulling just out of reach, protecting King in his own way.

He really thought it would be for the best to just shove his feelings aside if that meant he could stay at King’s side. 

Little did he know that he only tried to fight fire with, well, gasoline.

xx.

Something went terribly wrong, and Ram didn’t know _where_ or _what_ (or _how_ ).

He thought he did a pretty good job in the whole being-with-King-but-in-a-really-platonic-way. He always made sure to look out for King, but without pushing, without lingering touches or looks – well, stares, honestly, because, how could he not stare at King? – and, most importantly, without leaking any of those confusing feelings. (They actually weren’t confusing at all, in and of themselves, but they still managed to confuse the hell out of Ram. Mostly because he never really had them.)

King started to pull away. Slowly but not at all subtly. Started to look the other way, always breaking eye contact first, averting his gaze, turning his head the other way. Started to push Ram away. 

Ram thought he could handle it. He actually only waited for King to realize something was off, and realize that Ram wasn’t exactly looking at him with innocent eyes (because King was the smartest person he had ever known, he would _know_ ), and then, inevitably, start to push him away. 

Ram really thought he could handle it when the day would come.

He could not, in fact, handle it. At all. 

And then he did the one thing he swore he’d never do to King – he started pushing.

Because Ram had to _know_. Maybe if he knew, it would be easier. Easier to let go. 

As it turned out, it wouldn’t be easier to let go. He didn’t even need to let go anymore.

That night, the night where Ram started pushing King, asking and pleading and _begging_ , if only with his eyes, what the problem was, why King was violently and now physically trying to get Ram away from him, while displaying so much pain all over his face, while also knowing that he was hurting them both, Ram really didn’t mean to, but he needed to _know_ , okay, he – 

And then King kissed him. 

Just like that. (Not really _just like that_ , all those words right beforehand weren’t lost on Ram, the hurt and the pain in King’s voice and in his words and on his face wasn’t, either.)

Like the very first moment waves had collapsed over Ram, wave after wave after wave, merciless and ruthless and overwhelming, he froze. 

He just froze in place, unable to do anything, or think, or really process the whole mess that was this situation. 

The only thing he registered was King’s mouth pressed against his own, firm and _hard_ , and King’s hand gripping his neck, digging his nails into his skin, and Ram forgot how to _breathe_. 

He couldn’t remember how to breathe, even after several moments, but he knew that he would never breathe again if he let King pull away. 

So, he didn’t let King pull away when he wanted to, one tiny movement brought Ram back into their tent, and he, softly, carefully, grabbed King’s face, just took it into both of his hands (he was so _scared_ that King would pull away again). 

Somehow, Ram still had the mental capacity to realize that King was crying, silently, so he brushed over King’s cheeks, over his cheekbones, trailing the tears with his thumbs and trying to catch each and every single one of them, because he knew that they belonged to him, he just _knew_.

But Ram was still so utterly overwhelmed, okay, and he had been given what he himself had been so afraid of taking, he just couldn’t give King the time to let his tears dry on their own, he couldn’t, because King still was in his space, still so close, still touching and holding onto him –

Ram was pretty sure that he would die if he didn’t feel King’s lips on his again, he was so sure, so he leaned in again, slowly, carefully, giving King the time to pull back (god, Ram hoped he wouldn’t) – 

King didn’t pull away again. 

King allowed Ram to invade his space, to pull him close, closer, allowed him to tilt his head for comfort, allowed him to caress his cheeks and his neck and allowed him to run his hands through his hair, just like Ram wanted to do for so long, and King allowed, and allowed – 

(Ram was pretty sure he would die, if he _kept_ kissing King now, because he couldn’t see himself doing anything else ever again.)

(He didn’t really care.)

(King didn’t mind, either, as it seemed.)


End file.
